


Fools Abound

by Kirsten



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25114897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten
Summary: Uhtred and Finan are kidnapped.
Relationships: Finan/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	Fools Abound

**Author's Note:**

> A short little thing. Originally intended for round one of #TLKFFF2020 and the prompt, “Finan/Uhtred, we are bound.” But I was late! Also inspired by cheese rolling (don’t ask).
> 
> Thank you as always to the enablers! You know who you are. <3

“I hate to say it,” said Finan, so obviously he did not hate to say it too much, “but this might be the end for us.”

“You are wrong,” Uhtred snapped. “We will not die.”

It was not Uhtred’s habit to snap at Finan, but he was irritated by the ropes that chafed his wrists and ankles, by the sack over his head which stank of old fish and obscured his vision, by the rocking of the cart onto which they had been thrown, and by his life. The cart crashed through a pothole and knocked his head hard against the side. “I will _not_ die like this,” he snarled to Finan, who laughed at him for his anger.

“We have been kidnapped and are being taken God knows where, by God knows who,” he said. “What happens next is up to Him.”

Uhtred opened his mouth to reply, then sighed. “It is fate.”

Finan pushed his head against Uhtred’s, and Uhtred realised that he too was blinded by a sack. “If I am to die, I am glad it is with you.”

“You are a fool,” said Uhtred, even as Finan’s words made him smile. “And you will not speak of death again.”

Finan chuckled and they lapsed into silence. In the quiet Uhtred could hear their attackers’ breaths as they paced steadily beside the cart. They were on foot, he realised, there was no sound of horses – it sounded as if the cart were pulled by an ox, of all the creatures – and they had barely left the riverbank, for he could still hear the sound of water rippling over rocks. They had likely crossed into Mercia, then, and they had been captured by farmers and not warriors. The humiliation made his face burn, and he was suddenly filled with gratitude for the sack over his face so Finan and their captors could not see it.

He remembered falling asleep with Finan at the river side, not far from Coccham’s gates but certainly outside the estate. The village had been celebrating the harvest with a feast, as was Uhtred’s custom. It was pagan, but over the years he had found that the villagers did not care as long as food was plentiful, and the ale flowed free.

After the food, Finan had sat down beside him and drunkenly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I bet I can beat you at stones,” he whispered in Uhtred’s ear. “Just like I beat old Clapa.”

“And what are the stakes of this bet?” Uhtred asked, turning his head to look at Finan so that their lips almost touched, and Finan had leered and pointed first to his mouth and then to Uhtred’s groin. 

“Let’s go,” said Uhtred immediately, for he was not a complete fool and he was in the mood to test his luck. Finan laughed, and Uhtred had led the way out of the hall, through the village and out of the gates until they were surrounded by longer grasses and sheltered from the full moon’s glare under trees. And then they had played stones and shared ale-drunk kisses, and then they had fallen asleep before their kisses could lead to something more.

And then they had woken up, bound and blindfolded and being knocked about on a cart pulled by an ox. Captured by _farmers_.

“I am going to kill these people,” Uhtred snarled under his breath, angry once again, and Finan’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Eventually they approached a village. Uhtred could hear shouts and laughter and the sounds of other revelry, could smell village life and all that it entailed. They were still on the river, but he could not tell how far they had travelled or in which direction. Sightless, bound, he was helpless as a babe.

The cart came to a stop.

“How are we to get them out?” a woman asked. “It was hard enough getting them in when they were sleeping.”

“Easy,” said another woman, and Uhtred felt the cart shift as the ox was unhitched. The cart tipped backward, and he and Finan slid out and down to the ground like grain.

Uhtred tried to right himself and he heard Finan cursing as he tried to do the same, but with their ankles tied it was not as easy as it might have been. Uhtred could hear voices growing louder around them as they struggled, excited chatter and laughter, and he heard a woman call out, “Wait!”

Then somebody circled them and stood at their backs. Uhtred did not think they would be killed, but he tensed and braced himself for a sword blow.

It did not come.

Instead, the sacks were pulled from their heads. It was still night, and Uhtred blinked hard against the firelight from torches. He looked to Finan and saw that he was well, though he squinted and peered like a mole at the crowd around them. It was mostly women and boys on the cusp of manhood, Uhtred saw, with a few elders and young children scattered about. They did not seem hostile. Many of them even smiled and waved and seemed glad to see him, and Uhtred stared at them one by one, baffled by their behaviour.

“I give you the Dane!” yelled the woman who had solved their unloading problem as the crowd began to cheer, and he saw that she was young and that she wore braids and beads in her hair, though every other person around them was Saxon, as was she. “The famous Dane, Uhtred Ragnarson!”

“What is going on here?” Finan asked Uhtred, and all Uhtred could do was shake his head in bewilderment, and a little offence, for Finan had not merited a mention. Then they heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed behind them, and Finan immediately threw himself at Uhtred and knocked him to the ground, so fast and unexpected that Uhtred fell backwards and once again hit his head against the cart.

“Finan!” Uhtred shouted in complaint, but it was muffled by Finan’s leather-clad chest and arms. Finan did not apologise and remained lying across Uhtred’s chest and face, ready to shield him from any strike. 

The crowd grew quiet at Uhtred’s shout, and there was some awkward coughing that turned quickly to gasps of fright when the woman bent down and cut the ropes from Finan’s wrists and he immediately freed his ankles and sprang to his feet. He said nothing but snarled when the woman ventured closer to free Uhtred, and he snatched the knife from her hands and freed Uhtred from the rope himself.

Uhtred stood as quickly as he could, but his head ached and he could not disguise the sway in his step as he moved closer to Finan, who brandished the knife in front of him as if he would kill anybody who dared approach – and he would, Uhtred knew, and Uhtred himself was angry enough to let him do it. Finan’s sword had been taken, Uhtred noticed, and when he reached back, he found that his sword had been taken, too.

“Why have you attacked us?” he asked, but he felt a little ridiculous despite his anger, for the villagers had not attacked them – in fact, they seemed thoroughly cowed, shrinking back as if he and Finan had been attacking them.

“Lord Uhtred, do you not recognise me?” asked the woman with the braids and beads.

“Should I?” 

“Yes, lord,” she said. “You have spoken to me before.”

He looked at her closely. She was tall and strong and carried a sword, but he had not met her recently. He searched his memory… and the pieces fell together and formed a whole picture in his mind. The short journey alongside the river, the number of women, the elders few and the boys young because the men and elders had all been slaughtered –

“This is Deccet,” he said finally, and he felt Finan relax slightly beside him. “And you are the girl Aethelflaed I met that night when we killed the Danes who raided your village.”

“I am,” said this other, younger woman named Aethelflaed, blonde-haired and bright-eyed in the warm light of the fires. She smiled and gestured to three other women who stood beside the cart. “We welcome you to our village,” she said, as if they were attending a feast and had not been kidnapped in their sleep.

“Why have you attacked us?” Uhtred asked again, mollified only a little by the greeting.

“And what are we doing here?” Finan growled, who seemed mollified not at all. He looked every bit the fierce Irish fighter Aethelflaed had declared him and Uhtred knew him to be, and the villagers shrank away from him even further.

“Oh,” said Aethelflaed cheerfully, as if she were not standing in front of the two greatest warriors in all of England, who could quite easily kill her and many of her fellows, with or without their swords. “That is all part of the Dane hunt.”

Uhtred looked at Finan, who shrugged.

“The Dane hunt?” asked Uhtred.

“Yes,” she said. “Every year, on the same night you saved our village, we try to find you and bring you here to join our feast in thanks. At first it was to invite you, but then it became a game. I admit we might have arranged things better,” she added, and for the first time she seemed apologetic. “It is only that we have been trying to catch you for so many years, and we did not expect to ever achieve it.”

“Until we made prime targets of ourselves,” Uhtred realised, glancing once again at Finan, who was standing as still as stone.

“It is true, we did not expect to find you drunk in the grass, lord,” said Aethelflaed. One of the other women handed her their weapons, and she returned them with a smile. “We have found you surrounded by your men, with your wife, and absent from Coccham at war for one king or another, but never have we found you sleeping.”

“Well, perhaps next year we may make better sport of it,” said Uhtred, his imagination caught by the game, for it would be an amusement to his own men and village as well as to Deccet. He sheathed his sword and turned to nudge Finan and suggest that next year they might try to capture Aethelflaed in turn – but that was a mistake, for Finan was red in the face and vibrating with fury, and he had not put away his sword.

“What is the matter?” Uhtred whispered to him, but Finan shook his head and did not answer. His silence was cold like a winter’s morning after snow.

Aethelflaed invited them to join the village feast and Uhtred accepted without hesitation, as he was hungry and felt he was owed at least a meal and some ale in return for his sore shoulders and his aching head, and so was Finan, whose black temper continued despite Aethelflaed’s hospitality.

Aethelflaed led them to the hall and then left them to find her friends. The hall was not as well-built nor as warm as Uhtred’s own hall in Coccham, but the villagers had made a decent job of repairing it after the Danish raids and the uncertainties of life in Mercia over recent years. The feast was coming to an end by the time they entered, but there was still food to eat and ale to drink, and Uhtred availed himself of both until he was well-satisfied. 

“Are you not hungry?” Uhtred asked Finan, who still had not let go of the knife nor sheathed his sword, and who was clearly still angered by their ordeal.

“They could have sent a messenger to Coccham,” Finan bit out. “With an invitation. As is the custom when you want another person’s company at your feast. This is ridiculous, and they should be punished.”

“It is sport, Finan,” Uhtred said quietly.

“Aye,” he said, leaning close. “But you are not an animal to be hunted and captured and paraded through the streets. You are Uhtred of Bebbanburg. And you are _mine_ ,” he added in whisper.

Uhtred felt a smile creep across his lips. “I am yours, am I?”

“You are a fool,” said Finan, and he sat back and folded his arms – perhaps to hold back his temper, Uhtred thought, and his smile turned into a grin.

“I did not know you felt so strongly,” he teased, but his humour fell flat when Finan glared at him and did not answer – it seemed he had quite successfully proven the truth of Finan’s words.

Uhtred did not linger in the hall after that. He stood, and Finan followed him immediately, close at his heels as always. Uhtred could not help the smile on his face, though he hid it from Finan, for while Finan had not said the words it was clear that there was love between them. Uhtred returned it a thousand times over, would die for Finan happily and consider it an honour, for they were bound, and had been for many years.

They found Aethelflaed outside with her friends. “We will see you next year, lord,” said Aethelflaed with a grin, and Uhtred felt Finan tense beside him and prepare to spring.

“Next year you will try to capture my shield,” said Uhtred quickly. “And we will know when you are coming. It will not be so easy.”

“We shall see,” laughed Aethelflaed, and they said goodbye.

One of Deccet’s still-sober boatmen transported them across the river, and from there it was less than ten miles back to Coccham. Uhtred was anxious to return, for he did not want Sihtric and Osferth to notice their absence and send out search parties to no purpose. But the dawn gained on them with every step, and it had been a long night, and Uhtred soon found himself yawning with almost every step.

“You are _such_ a fool,” said Finan eventually, and he grabbed Uhtred’s arm and bade him stop under an oak tree. “We will rest here.”

“Is that all?” Uhtred asked, and he laughed when Finan punched him in the shoulder.

They sat under the oak tree and let its branches shelter them from view. It was peaceful. A swan drifted lazily downstream in the pink light of morning, and the blackbirds sang loudly all around them. Uhtred was filled with contentment. His stomach was full, his lands were peaceful, and he had his finest, his best, his most trusted man at his side.

“Finan,” he whispered.

“What?” asked Finan, who was still tense, who still looked and sounded angry about their unanticipated adventure. He had put himself between Uhtred and the river, Uhtred noticed, his protectiveness driven by fright, and his constant fear for Uhtred’s safety. Uhtred’s heart beat faster, for it was something powerful, to be protected by a man as good-hearted and brave as Finan.

Uhtred met his gaze and then drank in every aspect of his face: his dark, determined eyes, his laughing, scathing mouth, the scars he had gained in a hundred shield-walls or more. Uhtred loved this man, as he had loved Gisela. He had never been good at hiding such things and apparently still wasn’t, for Finan’s expression softened.

“Nothing,” Uhtred said, smiling helplessly.

“Such a fool,” said Finan again, but finally he smiled back at Uhtred, and drew Uhtred into a kiss.


End file.
